#her collection is so gorgeous i would kill for it

[archangeldyke-all]

Omg, part 2 of sevika x masc reader, childhood friends to lovers pleaseeee!!! It's so cute I love it omggg, okay imma give a scenario, they're aged up now, but still teens, and they do badass, and mischievous shit, and maybe it's their idea of a first date heh ☺️ You're amazing angel, I love theseee!!!

HEHEHEHEHEH i'm so glad u guys like this one, i was a tomboy as a kid and writing this story is healing something inside me

men and minors dni

sevika gives you a skeptical look. "and you're sure it'll work?"

you huff and roll your eyes. sevika thinks that because she's got a year on you she knows everything. "would you just trust me?"

"i just don't wanna give you an infection and be the reason you die or something."

you giggle and lean forward, kissing her worried frown. "that's why we got the alcohol-- to sanitize everything. and we run the needles through a flame before, too-- it kills the germs."

sevika's still squinting skeptically, but at least now she's blushing from the kiss.

you roll your eyes. "i'll let you do me first, if you're so nervous." you offer. sevika finally smiles. you grin and pull your shirt off.

sevika's staring right at your tits when you fling your shirt away. you giggle, and she kicks you in embarrassment. "you've seen them before, baby."

"i-i just-- shut up!" sevika huffs, pushing you down onto your back. you laugh, blinking up at the twinkling multicolored lights of your hideout.

you feel your own nervous embarrassment grow as sevika straddles your waist and stares down at your chest. she's heavy and warm and firm, and she's blinking down at you with her gorgeous silver eyes, a nervous glimmer behind them as she looks at you.

"okay." sevika whispers. "where do you want it?" she asks.

you grin and tap the top of your left tit. "right over my heart. duh."

sevika rolls her eyes. "that's so fucking corny." she whines. you grin.

"yeah, well, where are you gonna put yours?" you ask.

sevika's eyes dart away from yours and she mumbles. "s-same place, i guess."

you take one big swig off the bottle you'd stolen before handing it to sevika and letting her begin her work.

she gently soaks a cotton pad in the alcohol, wipes your chest clean. she sets up the supplies on your stomach, paper towels and ink and packaged needles. and when she's finally ready, she leans down and presses her lips to your chest, her black lipstick leaving a perfect kiss mark over your heart.

you giggle in excitement, then jump at the first poke of her needle. sevika pouts.

"does it hurt?" she asks, worried. you shrug. she tsks and smacks your shoulder. "don't move!"

you giggle. "it... just feels like a lot of scratches happening at once."

sevika hums along to the music you've got playing on the radio as she works, and you stare up at her, simply admiring your best friend.

when you'd asked a few weeks ago if sevika'd ever get a tattoo, her answer was a hard 'no.' she hates needles, and she's not really an artistic type.

but once you told her your idea for the one you wanted-- a permanent reminder of her love, her kiss etched into your skin for eternity-- sevika seemed enchanted with the idea.

which is how you ended up here. it takes a long time, and by the end, the top of your tit feels like it's on fire. but still, it's all worth it for the smile it pulls out of sevika when she admires her handiwork.

when she hands you a mirror and lets you look, you tear up a bit.

"wh--what?! do you regret it, did i do it wrong!?"

you laugh as you sit up and wrap sevika in a hug, nuzzling your nose against the crook of her neck and shoulder. "i love you." you say shakily. "it's perfect."

sevika sighs and kisses your head. "well, don't fuckin' cry, i need your vision clear so you don't fuck up mine." she huffs, kissing you one more time before flopping onto her back and unbuttoning her own shirt. you giggle and start collecting the supplies for sevika's tattoo.

she helps you apply her lipstick to your own lips-- you don't trust yourself to make it pretty-- the most makeup you ever wear is the remnants of sevika's that gets smudged onto your skin during a makeout session.

she giggles when she finishes applying the lipstick. "you look good."

you grin. "yeah? should i get my own tube of black?"

sevika rolls her eyes. "it's not black, it's coffee brown. i'm not, like, emo, or anything." you raise a disbelieving eyebrow at your girlfriend and she huffs in embarrassment. "whatever. just hurry up and kiss me already."

you laugh, bending down to press one clean, perfect kiss to her tit. when you pull away, you grin at your mark, then bend down to barrage her face with sloppy, uncorrdinated kisses. sevika squeals and bursts into laughter, half-heartedly shoving you away.

"close your eyes." you demand as you pick up a clean needle for her. sevika huffs.

"i wanna watch. you got to make goo-goo eyes at me the whole time."

you snort. "you're scared of needles, dummy, so close your eyes. you can stare at me when we've got you all tatted up and matching me."

sevika huffs and closes her eyes.

you feel bad poking your girlfriend so repeatedly, especially when she's clearly cringing in pain. but, once you get into the groove of it, sevika relaxes, and eventually she's asleep underneath you.

you giggle, kissing sevika's cheek to wake her up when you're finished.

she wakes up with a snort, and then she breaks into a grin. "d'ya finish?" she asks.

you hand her the mirror, watching in anticipation for your girlfriend's reaction.

sevika grins and bursts into laughter, before tossing the mirror away and pulling you down to kiss her. you hum happily against her lips.

"this means we're for real best friends forever now. y' can't lose a tattoo like you lost our friendship bracelet." sevika says. you cackle.

"how long are you gonna hold that over me?! i didn't mean to lose it-- i was eight!"

"i was only nine and i kept mine in perfect condit--" you cut her off with a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys

[greektragedybitch]

me omw to change my entire aesthetic after mumma pulls out her collection of oxidise jewellery:

[miley1442111]

protective- a.hotchner

summary: aaron (literally) fights for you

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem! reader

warnings: angst, talk of abuse, violence, general cm topics, crying, reader is a victim of DV (not aaron), gross men (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

------------------

Aaron Hotchner was a leader that you’d known from the beginning. He was your team leader, he was calm, collected, and calculated in everything. His lunch was the same everyday, he didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t swear all that often, and he wore the same sequence of shirts and suits every week. He was organised. 

Mondays was a blue shirt with a black suit, Tuesdays was a white shirt with a navy suit, Wednesdays was a white shirt with a black suit, Thursdays was a blue shirt with a grey suit, and Fridays was a white shirt with navy suit. Everything was fine and dandy, you trusted him, and you enjoyed his company. Everything was fine, until it wasn't. 

One stupid day, 8 whole months after you and your ex had broken up, he just so happens to be at the same bar you and the team are celebrating in, and he must’ve made it his personal mission to find you, to shout at you, to get you back. To piss you off. It hadn’t exactly been a good week, but then again, what week is when you’re dealing with murder cases? 

“Y/n,” Penelope sighed, looking out at the rest of the team on the ‘dance floor’. “I don’t understand,” she drew out the ‘understand’ to a ridiculous length, purely to annoy you. “How are you two so perfect?”

“Keep your voice down!” you hissed, turning back to her again. “We may not be at work but this is a work dinner.”

Did I mention he was your boyfriend too? 

“Have you seen yourself?” she gawked. “You’re gorgeous! He’s gorgeous! You two would make perfect babies” 

You chuckled. “I thank you for the flattery, but we can be honest here, he’s fucking gorgeous, and yeah, I’m alright,” you laughed when she hit you lovingly. “And, we’ve been together for 6 months, not 6 years. No babies for like… a while at least.”

“Y/n!” Charles’ voice rang out in the bar, meaning everyone around you turned to your group. “You fucking blocked me?!”He came up behind you, placing a tense hand on your shoulder, gripping the skin there until it hurt. “What kind of bitch does that?”

“Me, I guess,” you answered simply, staring straight down at your drink. Charles hadn’t been a very good boyfriend, nor a good person, and you didn’t really understand why you’d stayed for so long. Something about watching women get killed by their partners kind of snapped you into reality. Not that he was that bad but, he wasn’t good.

“Yeah right, you bitch. Unblock me, we need to talk about this!” 

“About what?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “We broke up 8 months ago, let it die Charles.”

“Baby, I miss you,” he leaned in closer, his breath heavy with alcohol. “I miss that pretty pussy too.”

You shuttered with disgust. “Get the fuck off of me,” you punctuated each word carefully and spoke slowly, making sure he heard you.

“Don’t be like that baby,” he smirked, tightening his grip. “Or it won’t end well.”   

You felt it. The gun in his holster. He wasn’t past killing you, you knew that. You knew he wasn’t safe. He never had been. He just wanted to get you home and into his bed, and you’d rather that than dead. 

“Get off of her,” Penelope demanded. He turned his attention to her, and you instinctively reached for your gun, only to remember that you left it at home. You weren’t about to let him hurt Pen. “And who may you be?” he asked. “Don’t,” you gritted out. “You’re here for me, not her.”

He turned his attention back to you. “I know that sweetheart, I don’t see why I can’t chat, do you?” 

“Let’s just go,” you told him. He nodded, a smug smirk on his face. You got up, his hand stayed on your shoulder the whole time, his other hand on his hip. 

“Good girl,” his laugh was dirty. Everything about him was dirty and sleazy and it made you sick. But again, better you than Penlope. 

Penelope’s eyes searched for someone, anyone to see you. He needed Morgan, o-or Hotch, or just anyone. “Hotch!” she called when she finally caught his eye. He rushed over to her. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, searching her for injury or signs of upset. 

“Y/n a-and this tall guy, he was talking to her and then she just got up a-and left. She looked scared. I-I didn’t know what to do,” she stuttered through her sentence, tears building in her eyes. 

You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. 

It played in his head like a sick mantra until he finally did something. He rushed out of there as fast as he could. He had to find you. He needed to find you. 

He ran down the alley beside the bar, nothing. Ran down the road with Morgan on his tail, nothing. Cars weren’t even moving, it was just a regular night. 

“Y/n!” Spencer called out to you. 

There you were. Leaning against a car with him standing over you. 

The three of them rushed over, ready to just take you back inside. They didn’t know how dangerous Charles was, how obsessed he was. 

“Stop!” you warned them. “Go back inside, I’m alright, I promise.” 

“We’re not leaving you here,” Derek argued. “Man, get off of her-”

Charles scoffed. “She wants this, she’s into it. It’s just some harmless fun!” 

Aaron almost recoiled out of disgust. He knew what you were into, and he knew it wasn’t this. It had taken you almost the full 6 months you’d been with him to even be comfortable enough to kiss or touch him in public. You didn’t talk about it but… it did come with the territory of being a behavioural analyst. He noticed how you shied away from the way he touched you sometimes, he noticed how you refused to drink a drop of alcohol, he noticed how you flinched at big noises, he noticed how you held his hand during sex. All of these little things, it led him to one conclusion, you’d been abused. 

He promised himself if he ever got to meet the fucker, he’d hurt him, if not kill him. 

Then in came Charles, and thus began the night Aaron Hotchner ended up in jail for aggravated assault. 

------------------

You sat in the police station, your head hung low. This was all your fault, none of this would’ve happened if you’d just-

“It’s not your fault,” Aaron whispered as he sat beside you, putting his cufflinks back on. Of course, you’d bailed him out and he’d gotten off with a warning and a fine, which was pretty good considering what he did to the guy. “Please don’t blame yourself.” 

You shook your head, willing yourself not to cry. “Aaron you got in a fight because of-”

“A choice I made to provoke a dangerous person,” he finished. “A choice I made.”

You nodded. “Aaron, your lip,” you placed a gentle hand on his cheek which he leaned into. His lip was split, he had a bruise forming on his head, and you knew his back was sore from the fight. You knew how hard Charles could hit. 

“My lip is fine, I promise. The paramedics gave me some painkillers. Are you alright?”

The dreaded question. No, you were hilariously, awfully, un-alright. You had to see Charles again, he touched you again, he talked to you again. You shook your head, tearing up.  Aaron didn’t shy away. He held you as you sobbed in that police precinct. He didn’t care about anyone staring, he didn’t care that the team was waiting outside, he didn’t care. He cared about you. You were all that mattered in that moment, and every moment after it.

------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[moonstruckme]

Hellooo!!! I have a Spencer Reid request, but feel free to ignore it if you're not up for it hahaha! I was thinking about BAU!Reader and maybe her and Spencer starting to mimic each other because they've been together for a while and spend so much time together? Like the way they talk, etc! I think it could be so so cute, especially if they don't realize they're doing it and the team noticing it for them? Thank you so much, I love everything that you write 🤍

Thanks gorgeous!

cw: discussion of tongue preservation methods? sorry in advance

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 560 words

You gaze lovingly at your boyfriend as he goes into detail about how to preserve severed tongues. 

“So the fact that this unsub is purchasing equipment actually shows a lack of medical expertise, since he seems to be going overboard with preservation measures.” Spencer’s nodding as he talks, a tiny scrunch between his brows. “It’s pretty silly actually. It’s probably only a matter of time until he figures out he just needs to keep them on ice.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Morgan chuckles quietly. 

Spencer blinks, eyes refocusing as he comes out of his brain and back into the conference room. “What?”

“Did you just say the unsub was silly?” Prentiss asks, and his eyebrows refurrow. 

“Did I?” 

“Let’s stay on task.” Hotch is all business. “If he were as inexperienced as that would suggest, he probably wouldn’t make clean cuts. This skill level indicates some level of expertise.” 

“Well, actually, I’m not sure it would necessarily be medical expertise,” you say, cringing at your own knowledge. “The process he’s using doesn’t sound dissimilar to how I think they preserve cow tongues. Maybe he’s preparing them to eat.” 

You’re doing your best not to squirm, and Spencer can likely tell, placing a slender hand on your leg under the table. “That’s a good point,” he says, “he could have experience as a chef or in the meatpacking business.” 

Prentiss frowns. “Yeah, but how many chefs know how to preserve tongues?” 

“Maybe we could start by looking into restaurants that serve those kinds of delicacies,” JJ suggests. 

“Good.” Hotch closes his binder, standing. “Garcia, you get started on that and we’ll touch base with you from Atlanta. Wheels up in two hours.” 

“Yes sir.” Garcia looks a bit green—you sympathize—as she hurries out of the conference room. 

Morgan’s giving you one of his knowing looks, collecting his things extra slow, until finally you sigh. “What?” 

“Well, actually,” he mimics, lips curving into a grin. “You and pretty boy must be getting serious if you’re taking on his signature phrase.” 

You roll your eyes, but Spencer smiles, looping his crossbody bag over his head. “Actually, language style matching is only one form of mirroring. If you’re paying attention, people who spend a lot of time together can mirror each other down to their breathing rhythms or how many times they blink within a minute.” 

You look at him interestedly. “So what does that mean? Just that we’re spending too much time together?” 

The look Spencer gives you threatens to liquefy you with its softness. “There’s never too much time.” 

Morgan’s laughter is hooting, and you want to find that as cheesy as he does, you really do, but the place within yourself where you usually reach for sarcasm has gone mushy and useless. You rearrange some things in your bag unnecessarily, head down to hide your blush.

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 

This would normally be your opportunity to think of a retort, but luckily you don’t have to. JJ pops back into the room, looking frowny. 

“We just got a call from Atlanta. The unsub killed again overnight.” 

Spencer grows serious. “He’s accelerating?” 

“Yup.” She nods. “Hotch wants us there now, so it’s wheels up in twenty.” 

You and Spencer nod in tandem. “Sick.”

Morgan’s eyes roll straight up to the ceiling.

[drghostwrite]

What Love Left Behind

Well I did it again… or at least I had some help from a special someone who knows who she is…

We found a quote that I want to use to write for everyone favorite obsession, Agatha Harkness…

“I asked her if she believed in love, and she told me it’s her most elaborate method of self-harm.”

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Warnings: smut… Minors DNI!!!!

********************************************************

The words came out so easily, it surprised even you.

“I love you.”

You and Agatha had decided on having a night in to yourselves, an intimate evening between two girlfriends. You found yourself cooking at the stove while Agatha filled you in on her latest witchy adventures.

You poured her another glass of wine and kissed her lips as she slid up onto the counter and you slid between her legs, your hands massaging into her thighs.

“Mm I could get used to this view…” she said in a sultry tone before bending to kiss you.

“Oh yeah?… me cooking for you or me trapped between these gorgeous legs?”

“Both… you belong with me darling, every part of  you.”

“I love you.” and there it was the atomic bomb that you just let slip.

Agatha froze, her sharp features momentarily softening into something unreadable. Then, just as quickly, her smirk returned, guarded and playful.

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she teased, her voice light but distant.

She didn’t say it back. Instead, she slid off the counter and padded into the couch, taking her wine glass. You tried to ignore the sting, but the silence between you grew heavier with every passing second.

Later that night, as you lay together in bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Agatha had been quieter than usual, her touch softer, almost hesitant. Normally, her hands would roam your body with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how to unravel you. Tonight, they rested idly, her fingers barely grazing your arm.

“Agatha,” you murmured, turning to face her. Her eyes met yours, her face unreadable in the dim light of the room.

“Yes, darling?” she replied, her voice smooth but distant.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just tired.”

You studied her carefully, noticing the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw tightened ever so slightly. Agatha was a master at hiding her feelings, but you’d learned to see through the cracks in her armor.

“Agatha, don’t you dare try to spare me.”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away. “It’s not about you.”

You sat up, studying her closely. “Is it because I said I love you?”

Her breath hitched, and the mask slipped. She turned her head toward you, her expression startled, almost vulnerable. For a moment, you thought she might deny it, but then the weight of her silence answered for her.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve been distant ever since,” you said softly. “Please, talk to me.”

Her hand came up to rub her forehead as she tried to look away, and when she spoke, her voice was low and guarded. “It’s not that, it’s just…” she began, but you shook your head.

“Just what?… Don’t do that,” you said gently. “Don’t dismiss it. Talk to me.”

She hesitated, her eyes searching yours before she exhaled shakily. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.” You nodded giving her the room to breathe.

Agatha sat up, her hands twisting in the sheets. “There was a woman once. Rio.” Her voice wavered, and you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “I loved her. Trusted her. She was the first person who made me think… maybe I wasn’t as unlovable as my mother claimed I was... maybe I could be good… But she betrayed me. She took everything I gave her and left me hollow.”

Your heart ached as you listened, but you didn’t interrupt.

“And my mother…” Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to collect herself. “She believed I was born evil... That I would destroy everything I touched... She convinced the coven to believe it too. They tried to kill me.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t stop. “Then there was Nicholas. My son.” She swallowed hard, her grip on your hand tightening. “I brought him into this world alone. Hid him, protected him,  even killed for him… I did everything I could to keep him safe. And still, I lost him. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever…”

The words broke off, her voice choked with emotion sobs wracked her frame as she shook, her hand grasping yours, afraid to let go.

Silence hung between you as you absorbed her pain, her grief. She finally looked at you, her expression fragile, tears cascading down her cheeks. 

“Do you see now? Love destroys me.”

You reached for her face, brushing away her tears with your thumb. 

“Do you believe me?”

“What?” she whispered.

“Do you believe that I love you?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

You bent up so that your lips could kiss away the salty tears falling down her cheeks, your lips meeting her quickly but soft and gentle.

You shifted, straddling her lap, your hands cradling her face. “I love you, Agatha Harkness,” you said, your voice firm. “Every part of you. Your past, your pain, your scars. I see it all, and I love you.”

“Y/N…” she said breathlessly.

“Do you believe in love?… our love?” You asked against her lips.

Her hands gripped your waist tightly, her breathing uneven. “It’s my most elaborate method of self-harm,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to hers. “Not anymore… You don’t have to hurt anymore. Not with me…. I’ll love you, protect you, cherish you. Always.”

Her nails dug into the sensitive skin of your hips, pulling you closer as her lips found yours. The kiss was deep, raw, and filled with a need that made your heart ache.

Slowly you pushed her back, her hair falling in a halo around her, your hand pressing into the pillow beside her head, your other hand running down her side as you moved down her body.

You began to worship her body with slow, reverent kisses, murmuring against her skin. “I love this,” you said, tracing the line of her jaw.

“And this,” you whispered, kissing the hollow of her throat, then trailing to her collarbone, then you followed down her chest, kissing the valley between her breasts.

You allowed your lips to briefly meet an erect nipple, your tongue flicking over it. A small whimper pulling from her lips as her hand ran through your hair.

“I love the way when I run my hands up your side you melt…” you said kissing over her ribs, your hands gripping into the soft skin of her sides.

“I love that you once carried a beautiful baby boy…” you kissed over her bare stomach, taking her hand in yours and intertwining your fingers, “I love that one day you could carry our baby…”

You heard her breath hitch and her hand twitched against yours.

“I love your thighs and how I can mark them…” you said bending down, slowly spreading her legs and laying in between them… you nipped at them with your teeth before running your tongue over the spot and then sucking making sure to leave a few marks to be found later.

“I love the gorgeous sounds that you make for me when I do things like this…” you bent down pulling her underwear aside and placing a soft kiss to her clit, hearing a small moan slip past her lips.

“Y/N, love…” she trailed.

“Tell me what you need Agatha…”

“I need you…” she whispered almost as a final plea.

“Mm, I’m right here pretty girl…” you moaned against her, slowly puling her panties off and tossing them behind you.

you looked down to see her glistening folds, already so wet for you, but you didn’t want to tease, you wanted to let her know how much you worshipped her.

“So wet for me… god you’re fucking beautiful…” you said running your tongue flat against her, tasting her. Watching her head fall back against the pillow, but her hand stayed intertwined with yours, her fingers squeezing yours as if your hand was a lifeline.

You swirled your tongue around her sensitive clit before dipping back down to collect more of her on your tongue. You could hear her breaths getting shorter and more on even.

“such a goddess…” you moaned against her. Her hips bucking up into you for more, you could tell she was getting close.

“darling, I-I…” she started, usually you would make her wait… make her hold out for as long as possible, but not this time, no you wanted her to take everything she needed. You didn’t care that her hips rocked unsteadily against your mouth, or how she ground hard against your tongue, but you loved the way she sat up her face contorted in pleasure only to let her piercing blue eyes meet yours.

“Y/N…” she panted breathlessly, trying to keep eye contact.

“Cum for me Agatha…” with that she finally reached her high, her back arching slightly as her orgasm took over, her thighs snapping closed around you aside from your arm stopping her as you still held her hand.

you stayed like that for awhile, waiting for her body to relax before you crawled back up to lay next to her. She leaned in her forehead finding the crook of your neck as your fingers lazily traced patterns on her back and arms.

“Agatha Harkness…” you whispered her full name, pulling her attention as she leaned to look into your eyes, you reached brushing a stray piece hair out of her face.

“Hmm?” She hummed studying your eyes.

“I love you.”

She moved to face you more but this time her piercing blue eyes were hopeful.

“I love you too.”

“All of you, Agatha. Every single piece… your heart is mine to protect and that what I’m going to do… Loving you has never been easier… you deserve to be loved like this, and I intend to prove that to you.”

Tears slid down her cheeks, but this time, they weren’t just from pain. They were from the hope she thought she’d lost, the love she never believed she deserved.

And as you held her that night, as you loved her with every fiber of your being, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, love didn’t have to destroy her after all.

After all maybe she was good, and she found the one person that saw that good no matter what.

[katherines-imagines]

Her Pretty Girl

pairings: hazel callahan x reader

warnings: insults, stupid Jeff, bad writing

summary: Hazel’s girlfriend calls her Pretty Girl every time.

It was the day after the game, and the fight club planned a celebratory meeting for saving the day. As the girls filed in, Hazel and her girlfriend walked in hand and hand. As everyone got seated, Josie spoke up.

“Well, that was some pretty fucked up shit.” The girls nodded at the statement. They had killed, after headcount, all of the football players. Collectively, they had decided to never mention that part.

“Fuck yeah, we slayed those players,” Sylvie yelled aggressively. The girls laughed and nodded, high-fiving each other.

“Yo where’s the snacks,” PJ asked confused. A gasp came from Hazel’s side, their heads turned towards the sounds.

“I am so sorry, I left it in my last class,” Y/N apologized. “I’ll go grab it.” She stood up, hand leaving Hazels.

“Do you want me to go,” Hazel asked sweetly. Shaking her head, Y/N smiled in appreciation.

“Thank you, but I’ve got it pretty girl, love ya” Y/N said, leaving a small kiss on her cheek before leaving the gym. As Hazel’s eyes followed Y/N’s leaving figure, she heard a snicker come from PJ.

“Gosh, what kind of nickname was that,” PJ asked rudely. Holding back an eye roll, Hazel turned to PJ before answering.

“The nickname a lover gives. I know you wouldn’t know, so I’m glad I could clear it up for you,” Hazel said with a smirk. The girls laughed as PJ blushed in embarrassment. If Hazel was being honest with herself, she was still upset with PJ. Yes, she had said she forgiven her, but she had just wanted to get it over with. Originally, Hazel had felt guilty, but Y/N had told her that she had no reason to be, going on about how PJ was a ‘stupid bitch’.

“No, but really,” PJ interrupted Hazel’s thoughts. “Why in the hell does she call you that?” All the girls turned to Hazel, ready for the story. Hazel opened her mouth to speak before she paused. When had Y/N start calling her pretty girl? Blinking, Hazel thought about when it had started.

“Well,” Hazel started. “For as long as I can remember knowing her, she’s always called me pretty girl.” They had gotten together during summer, their first ‘official date’ had been the festival, the day before school. “She always called me hun, like she does to everyone she cares.” The girls nodded in agreement. Everyone who was everyone knew that when talking with people she cared about, she always called them by their name, and hun. “Sometimes she called me sweets,” Hazel added. Huh, Y/N really did call her by lots of pet names.

“But we wanna know why she calls you pretty girl,” Annie said impatiently.

“Yeah, come on,” Isabel agreed, holding Josie’s hand. Hazel rolled her eyes playfully at the impatience from the group.

“Seriously, I don’t remember-” Hazel stopped mid sentence.

“What,” Brittany asked. Hazel did remember.

“It was the beginning of freshman year..”

It was a normal day. As usual, Jeff was being a dick and pushing Hazel around. Hazel kept her head down, if she kept her mouth shut, the bullying would be over faster. Everyone usually ignored Jeff’s bullying, hoping to stay out of his trail of fear. Not Y/N though.

“Your so ugly,” Jeff said with cruelty. Hazel winced subtly. That definitely did not help with her self esteem.

“You shut your mouth,” a voice said, stepping in front of Hazel. The person put themself in between her and Jeff. It was her darling Y/N. Well, not her Y/N, at least not at the time, but Hazel still liked her. “She is the prettiest, gorgeous, most stunning girl in school, hell, in the whole freaking world!” From what Hazel could see from behind, she could hear and see her fuming.

“Ugh,” Jeff whined. “No fun, this is too much work.” Jeff snapped for his goonies to follow him out, not wanting to do extra work. As he left, Y/N turned to Hazel with concern.

“Hey, are you ok,” she asked softly. No one had every spoken so kindly to Hazel, and it didn’t help the fact that she was gorgeous.

“I-I’m ok,” Hazel stuttered back, avoiding eye contact. Suddenly two hands grabbed her face and brought it near Y/N’s face. Too close. Hazel couldn’t help the blush coming onto her face.

“He is wrong, Haze. You are not ugly,” Y/N said firmly. Haze laughed sarcastically, looking away from Y/N.

“It’s ok, I know I’m not the prettiest,” Hazel tried to play off, but Y/N would not hear anymore of that. Y/N held Hazel’s face firmer, forcing Hazel to look at her.

“Listen here, Hazel Callahan. You are the most stunning, gorgeous, most dazzling girl I’ve ever met. You, are a very pretty girl.” Y/N was fully prepared to continue to rant, but she noticed tears in Hazel’s eyes. “Haze,” she said softly, wiping away her tears. “I will tell you every day, of what a pretty girl you are until you believe me. And I’ll continue to tell you, even after that.” Hazel couldn’t stop a few tears slip past her eyes.

“Do you really mean that,” Hazel asked softly. Nodding, Y/N pulled the crying girl into a hug.

“Of course, pretty girl.” That was the day Hazel realized that she loved Y/N. She wanted to be girlfriends.

“And since then, she’s been calling me pretty girl,” Hazel said, wiping her eyes. Some tears had slipped while recalling the beautiful moment. She had never taken Jeff’s words to heart, but hearing Y/N fighting for her to know she was pretty? It meant the world to her. A loud sob broke the silence causing Hazel to snap out of her thoughts. The group was crying, moved by her darling Y/N.

“That was too fucking cute,” Sylvie cried. Hazel nodded, a loving smile on her face.

“I’m not gay, but I would date her if she was single,” Brittany added. The gym doors opened to show the center of attention herself, Y/N.

“Hey, I brought all the snacks,” Y/N said, motioning to the wagon full of snacks she was wheeling. The girls gave a collective ‘awe’, leaving a confused look on the girl’s face. Hazel walked towards Y/N to help bring the snacks. “Thank you, pretty girl,” Y/N smiled sweetly. The girls screamed at the reference, leaving a confused look on Y/N’s face. Hazel couldn’t help it, she grabbed her girlfriend and kissed her, getting kissed back with vigor. When Hazel pulled back, Y/N gave a dazed look of love. “What was that for, pretty girl?”

“Nothing, just wanted to kiss you,” Hazel said nonchalantly. Blushing, Y/N looked away and started unpacking the snacks. As Hazel stared at her girlfriend while PJ walked up to her.

“You’re really whipped, huh,” PJ elbowed Hazel knowingly. Hazel hummed in agreement. She was head over heals for Y/N. “You’re her pretty girl, aren’t ya?”

Yes. Hazel was her pretty girl.

A/N: I actually liked this one a lot. Hope you all liked this one! If you have any requests, please send them :)

[alwaysanundertone]

Hey!!! Could you possible do marauders with reader who has a really bad fear of spiders, like she cries when she sees them and can’t sleep or panics at the thought, and a scene where the boys help her <3

An unpleasant encounter | poly! marauders x fem! reader

tw: mention of arachnophobia, spiders

comfort

You were reading on Sirius's bed, the sound of the rain outside creating the perfect atmosphere for a good reading session. Your boyfriends were somewhere in Hogwarts, pranking the poor first years, and now their dorm was pleasingly quet.

Your feet were dangling off of your bed, your book held in the air.

You were relaxed, finally winding down after an exhausting day of classes, when all of a sudden you spotted a furry, black creature crawling on your ceiling.

Your limbs froze, immediately recognizing the small animal for what it was: a spider. It wasn't even that big, not bigger than a coin, but still your brain short circuited as you saw it moving awkwardly, his little legs moving faster and faster until it hung directly over your head.

You jumped up, falling miserably on the ground on your ankle, while you still kept your eyes focused on its every movement, not wanting to lose it and find it on your bed later.

Your breath quickened, small teardrops collecting in your eyes as you saw his legs moving rapidly; you felt the panic engulfing you, like being trapped in a heavy blanket in the middle of august. It was overwhelming.

That's how your boyfriends found you, sprawled on the ground, your hand pressing down on the sore area right above your feet.

It was Remus who talked first. "Darling, what are you doing?"

You didn't speak, only raising your hand to point at the scary, black monster.

Sirius chuckled. "Love, I think he should be fearing you, a grown woman, then the other way around."

As soon as he reached for it, you released a screech. "Stop it Sirius! It's going to fall right on top of me and bite me and I'll die! You won't have a girlfriend anymore!"

You saw your boyfriends exchange a look, then James reached for your hand.

"Do you trust us, love?"

You reluctantly nodded, gaining a proud smile from him. "Perfect. Would you like to try something? We will stop as soon as you feel too uncomfortable"

As much as you didn't want to admit it, leaving with arachnophobia wasn't easy. You couldn't bring yourself to enjoy little picnic dates because you were scared of seeing some stupid spider and ruining it. You always felt like you were overreacting, but you couldn't help it.

You cringed as Remus picked up the lid of a discarded clear jewelry box from your desk, standing on top of your bed and proceeding to trap the little creature inside of it. He turned around, giving you an easy smile. "Do you feel comfortable enough to come near, darling?"

Sirius extended his hand, as soon as you took it he tugged you into his arms, making you gasp. “Hey there, love” He grinned, pecking your lips, a small smile forming on your own lips.

He turned you around, making a small gasp fall from your lips. “Just look at it for now, okay? I’ll be right here with you.”

Remus held the box tightly secured in his hands, you looked at the spider. At first all you could do was cringe as you saw his hairy legs move frantically to escape, you saw it moving around the small box, looking for a place go escape, coming out empty handed.

The more you looked at it, though, the more your feelings changed. A sort of compassion crawled its way to your chest, making you feel kind of… bad. Yes, of course the creature still scared you; yes, you still wouldn’t want it to be ANYWHERE near you.

Still, you didn’t want it to die no more. You started to hate the box, to find Remus hands cruel.

“Remus, free it outside. Don’t kill it. Please?”

He smiled at you fondly, nodding and making his way to the window.

You felt Sirius mouth breathing right next to your ear. “I’m so proud of you”

—-

taglist: @eeviee4 @sammyreid @sxmnc

Hi gorgeous souls I’m back ;) did you miss me? It’s been a crazy month 😭

[lovelybeesthings]

Ray of sunchine

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Context: Little drabble about the scene where Coriolanus freaks out in the forest with a sweet ending. one-shot

As I go fetch some flowers in the forest humming to my own tune I had originally left the cabin and went outside in the rain for Katniss but then I got easily distracted by the way the gorgeous flower looked I doubt that Coriolanus will worry I think myself.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus begins to panic about not being able to find Y/n as he holds the rifle in his hands, tracking her steps in the fresh mud, she wouldn't run away from him, right? I mean after everything he did for her after what he's sacrificed.

As he followed the foot tracks he saw his mother's scarf lying on the ground, he got on his knees and brought the scarf up to his nose to smell the scent of roses but as he did he got bitten by a small snake adding more to the burning fire.

“Is this poison?” he says panicked “Y/n! Are you trying to kill me” he shouts “I SAID ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME” he shouts much louder losing it he brings the rifle in his hands to where the mockyjays started to mimic her humming.

His arm bleeding from the bite of the small snake from the scarf.

As Y/n picks a bit more and makes her flower crowns she gets up and goes back to her trail to the cabin she hears shouting and the sound of the riffle going off. Worried she runs to where the noise is coming from seeing Coriolanus on the ground the riffle positioned to her.

Y/n is worried and confused she lifts her hands holding the flower crowns “Coryo what happened why did you start shooting the mockingjays?” she says in her voice in a honey-toned manner her voice claiming him down.

“Where were you!” he says in a panic “I got distracted and was collecting flowers to make some flower crowns, why were you shooting?” she responds examining his face and then checking to see if he was okay noticing his bite mark.

“Coryo your arm is bitten we need to treat it right away!” she says quickly on her knees beside him examining the bite as he calms down the voices that linger in his mind disappear.

“Let's head back to the cabin I think we can treat your wound and talk about what happened okay? Would you like that” Y/n tells him as he nods in response he holds her hand as they both back together to the cabin.

(explaining)

“So you thought I was trying to leave you?” She says as she cleans his wound with alcohol and then wraps it with bandages as he hides his head being foolish to think that.

“Croyo could it be you're just scared to leave I mean we can back to Distract twelve and dump the ruffles in the lake”

Croyo nods as he is happy to hear Y/n can sense his doubts “I like that plan” he responds as she smiles kissing his forehead as his hands make it to her waist.

“I promise when I go back to the Capitol I'll bring you with me,” Coriolanus says as he buries his face in her chest for comfort, causing her to let a giggle out

“Alright I mean there's nothing for me here I'm sure Lucy could take care of the convey on her own!” she says as she pulls his head up kissing his lips.

Epilogue: C.S. becomes president and his wife Y/n Snow rule over the Panem peacefully ending the hunger games and the Capitol and Districts live in Union as equals.

[stluciabuns]

The Historical Accuracy of Kirsten's Dirndl

Despite its adorableness, I have seen many people complain about Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl outfit.

I would kill a man to have bought this for $22.

She wears this outfit for most of Meet Kirsten, being that she is an impoverished immigrant child who does not own any other clothes, and also for continuity reasons.

Frequently, I have seen it claimed that this outfit is not historically accurate and should not have been included as part of her collection. Conversely, I have also seen many German folk costumes marketed as being made for Kirsten. Both of these pain me a great deal (actually they just annoy me).

Nonetheless, I have decided to further procrastinate doing actual, meaningful work and instead set out on a new mission: figure out what the fuck is up with Kirsten's Dirndl.

In this post, I will lay out the research I have done, the evidence supporting the historical accuracy of this outfit, the challenges to its existence, and ultimately aim to answer the question of whether this outfit is one Kirsten plausibly could have worn on her journey from Sweden to America in 1854.

Let's begin.

First, the name. Pleasant Company/American Girl referred to this outfit as "Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl and Kerchief."

Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a Swedish dirndl. "Dirndl" is a German term, and refers to folk costumes worn by people in German-speaking areas of Europe (the Alps, Bavaria, Austria, and so on).

Kirsten is Swedish, and before Meet Kirsten has never left Sweden before. It is very unlikely she would have acquired, and regularly worn, a German dirndl. See this gorgeous example of a dirndl c. 1840:

Outfit, c. 1840. Munich, Bavaria, Germany. Münchner Stadtmuseum.

This ensemble is beautiful, but tragically, it is not what Kirsten is wearing.

What, then, is Kirsten wearing? What kind of traditional dress does Swedish culture have?

As it turns out, the proper term for what she is wearing is a folkdräkt. This is a Swedish term meaning "folk costume." Here is an illustration depicting multiple examples of Swedish folk costumes. In proper terms, these would be called "Svenska folkdräkter."

Nordisk familjebok (1908), vol. 8, Folkdräkt. Retrieved from runeberg.org.

These outfits are not quite identical to anything we see in Kirsten's collection, but you can observe various elements that have carried over -- the vertical stripes, black woolen skirts with ornate trim, and white dresses and red sashes (hello St. Lucia)!

Let us dive deeper. What do extant Svenska folkdräkter, specially those made c. 1850, look like? Is there anything like Kirsten's outfit among surviving examples?

Johan Sodermark, "Kvinna i dräkt."

In my few hours of research, this example image is the closest thing I have found to Kirsten's dirndl.

This lovely portrait is a watercolor from 1850 painted by Johan Sodermark. It is very creatively titled "Kvinna i dräkt" -- literally, "Woman in costume." The pattern of this woman's apron is incredibly similar to that of the skirt of the Kirsten doll's outfit -- a dark red base with blue and yellow stripes woven throughout.

Here is a closeup from the American Swedish Institute.

Although it is not shown in the doll-sized version of the outfit, the illustrations in Meet Kirsten by Renée Graef show us she also wears a light-colored, striped apron, which is almost surely the one that comes with her meet outfit.

Illustrations from Meet Kirsten, drawn by Renée Graef.

Notice the fabric of the bodice in the third illustration, though: Kirsten's top is made of red plaid fabric, while Sodermark's girl has an outfit full of stripes. Kirsten, bless her heart, spends an entire book outfit-repeating a potential pattern-mixing fail: plaid and two kinds of stripes and a floral scarf. Did Pleasant Rowland just hate her? Is Kirsten on another, elevated fashion plane far beyond my comprehension? Is there a historical basis for this combination of patterns?

I have no answer to the first two questions, but thankfully can speak on the third.

Komplett Vilskedräkt, Västergötlands museum. Some pieces c. 1865.

The top is plaid and laces up, which is not necessarily the most common way of fastening (in most examples, the bodice pins up), but it is a sensible choice considering both Kirsten's age (9) and the fact that Pleasant Company was making toys for little hands.

The model for the outer shell (the lace up top) belonged to Karl Edberg from Hällestad; it is not dated, but at least one piece of this set (the bag, which is not shown) is c. 1865. Additionally, the blouse here is very similar to the one that comes with Kirsten's winter outfit -- look at that keyhole neckline!

So, Kirsten's Dirndl outfit is actually very accurate as far as the clothing itself goes...the name remains the trouble.

I have no idea why they called it a dirndl. Folkdräkt is definitely challenging to pronounce, but why wouldn't PC just translate it as "folk dress" or "Swedish outfit" and call it a day? Why the insistence on referencing a culture that isn't relevant to the doll or her dress at all?

Perhaps this is a mystery to tackle for another day...

[1-800-local-slut]

Teen Witch

This is just angst; you and Stiles break up lol. Look I know it's kinktober but I needed a break from writing porn, but we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programing tomorrow!

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Your new carpet, ruined. How was it ruined? Your boyfriend's best friend was currently bleeding out on it, and you were very very upset with him. You'd told him so many times if he needed your help, that he needed to call first. Not break into your fucking house and make so much noise that you had to thank your lucky stars that your parents weren't home- yet.

Back to Scott, he was currently seizing on your carpet and that was a problem. In addition to the blood, he was now vomiting. A lot. They owed you two hundred dollars like right now. You grumbled, as you attempted to stabilize the seizing teenager, and Alison was holding Scott's hand while Isaac attempted to hold the new alpha in place.

It was no easy feat, he was foaming at the mouth, eyes crazed and glowing while he swung through the air almost scratching one of your eyes out. You yelped as you got down onto your knees to try and help as much as you could. What was wrong with him in the first place?

You barked out the question as you pulled out a box from under your bed. It was sealed, a sigil you had drawn with your own blood and ashes from your most recent spell after a breach through your bedroom's defenses against Ms. Blake. Opening the box, you pulled out a healing potion that you created just a few days ago when your dearest friend Lydia Martin had jumped out of her sleep muttering about 'wells' and 'ice cubes'. Now, you were no banshee but that couldn't have been a good sign from her.

"Hold his head so I can pour this into his mouth." You ordered Stiles, who was standing there a bit worthlessly at the moment. Dropping to his knees besides you, his hand brushed up against your thighs, which was a startling reminder that this happened in the middle of the night because you liked white men.

You were woken up out of your sleep in the middle of the night by Stiles standing over your bed, with that gorgeous nervous smile. It would be cute if Stiles had a key to your house or your window didn't have a steel bat holding your window open for Isaac to shove the seizing Scott through it while Allison barricaded your bedroom door.

As you poured the clear liquid down Scott's throat, and while Stiles held his snarling face in his hands, Scott really was a bit too strong for his britches. And naturally that was a problem for you. You just repaired your bedroom, which doubled as your sanctuary. Where your spell books, plants, herbs, collections, crystals, ashes, everything, were held. Where a witch rests her head at night is incredibly important.

After you had a rather rough squabble with Jennifer Blake, you had some serious repairs to make and not even a day later, Stiles was pushing someone into your bedroom window.

You couldn't have Scott destroy everything you literally just rebuilt. After all your parents were mad enough when you had to go out and pick out all of the herbs from your mothers garden.

With a small syringe, you gently turned his head over to the side and lined up with his shaking form. He was trembling and eyes were glazing over, blue liquid (?) leaking out of his mouth. You would've left him this way if not for the tremors getting more intense. What looked like rabies was not clearing up with the help of your potion. In fact, it just helped his physical ailments, but did not do much for his mental state. Without throwing up and growling he'd certainly be able to focus enough to take out one of your eyes like he almost did when they got his head down flat on a pillow.

"What is that?" Allison asked as you sunk the needle slowly into his neck and focused.

"Concentrated mountain ash." Like a vaccine almost. It was just enough to slow him down but not kill him. Maybe a little bit more for the brand-new true Alpha. Stiles winced beside you, preparing for the uproar of disapproval from Allison and Isaac. You were a bit new to town, so they weren't really used to you yet.

In the sense of, you and your family were the first witches to come to Beacon Hills in six hundred years. They were all so used to the gentle and kind nature of their emissary the lovely Alan Deaton. You were not gentle. You were a witch, loyal to yourself. And that meant drugging one of your friends to keep him from hurting you and possibly destroying your house.

Nice and gentle druids, healers who would never harm others intentionally. Kind and wise, who dedicated themselves to being helpful and supportive guides to the supernatural community around them.

Not witches. Wicked witches who cursed and hexed. Wicked witches who had the power to heal and destroy. To give and take. Wicked witches who weren't interested in getting clawed apart to save some people who think you're nothing short of evil.

So, when you came to town and were the shining star of Beacon Hills after just a few weeks they knew something was up.

Stiles, ever attracted to women who could kill him with a hard glare, fell for you faster than you could telepathically throw someone across the room.

So now, four months later, Allison was gaping at you in disbelief for poisoning her situ-relation-boyfriend-ex, whatever was going on, you didn't really care to know. Whenever Stiles tried explaining it to you, you just told him you didn't really care and went back to making out with him. And why would Stiles be mad about that?

Scott stopped struggling, the mixture of plants slowed his heart rate enough to fall into a fit full sleep. Now, the issue was your carpet turning a really nasty and wet shade of purple. Literally filled with the mixture from Scott's body. Just disgusting.

"Get this mess off of my floor, and someone is running me two hundred dollars for my carpet."

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"Okay. So, he got super rabies. And you brought him to my house?" Scott was now resting in your tub, wearing only his boxers as you had a big t-shirt he could fit into but nothing else, after you had hosed him down in your shower.

He was sweating profusely, and he muttered something about 'falling down' it was odd. You scratched your head, your bonnet sliding down your forehead. It was 1:52 in the morning.

Literally awful. Your bathroom floors were cold, it was cold in general, and they were just in your house. Allison had a slightly cold look in her eyes. The Argent girl no doubt heard about your kind. Heard about your family. And while you two had communicated before, there was no doubt she was seeing where the rumors came from now.

If Wicked Witch had a defined photo, it would be your ancestors. Your great grandma, your grandma, your aunts and cousins, your mother, and now you. You wouldn't call it wicked. More so, ambition that other creatures think to be a hindrance.

If you were so wicked, you would've tossed them all out of your house the moment you saw Stiles grinning over you. But you loved Stiles, so you could stop being devious for long enough to lend a hand. This was a bit much to ask of you though.

Lately, you and Stiles were going through something of a rough patch. You only saw each other during what seemed like moments of high stress. When you were helping Deaton, creating some sort of spell or object for the pack, or saving a life. Or running for yours.

That obviously didn't help a relationship, which often resulted in you two screaming at each other on the car ride home. And the makeup sex was starting to no longer be worth losing your energy. Was it great? Yes, but you'd like to have sex with your boyfriend without having to scream at him. Like that embarrassing spat last week where you yelled 'I hate you don't talk to me' in front of everyone and then stole his car keys forcing him to walk all the way to your house in order to get home.

The sex that night? Magical. He really gave his all into apologizing to you.

This was another fight. Because when Stiles didn't consider you, it hurt. There were boundaries- you had boundaries- and none of them seemed to understand that. Why would you want to be woken up like this? Perhaps you'd be less cross if he had stuck to his promise of making more time for you and being a bit more considerate of you having to clean up his messes. Considering he made the promise last night, you truly hoped this time it would last longer. Perhaps this just was not for you.

Pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath, you shook your head. Isaac and Allison stood in your bedroom, whispering amongst themselves, while Scott laid unconscious in the tub. Steadying yourself, you looked at Stiles who was sitting with his head down on the edge of the tub.

"Do I look like a vet?"

"...Well considering recent events-" The words died on his lips, when he saw you tearfully looking at him. Why were you crying? Because you just noticed the crack in your floor from when Scott jumped awake while you were transporting him to the tub. And once again, you realized you'd have to clean that up. Oh, also you noticed Stiles grabbing his keys in his jacket pocket. Was he about to run off and leave Scott with you here? Where was he even about to go?

Here you were, with your AP Bio test first thing tomorrow morning and your boyfriend pushed you across the line once more. How many more emergencies would fall on you? It wasn't his fault. He joined a pack. But there was a certain point that things reached.

"...This isn't working Stiles." Allison and Isaac stopped the whispering, at your low voice. Both of them turned their head to look into your bathroom where you had your arms wrapped around your stomach and had fat tears rolling down your face.

Stiles gaped in disbelief and shook his head slightly before he swallowed thickly. Glancing behind you he got up and shook out his shoulders before he closed the door to the bathroom. This was one conversation he couldn't have any one witness. And Scott was knocked out in the tub, so he hardly counted.

"There's a line Stiles. And you guys crossed it again and again. You promised me last night that you would try setting harder boundaries. You just broke into my room and my new carpet is ruined. You couldn't call? You know anytime of night you call; I answer, you text I respond. I was fine doing all of this when it felt like we were together. When we did things together. Stiles, when was the last time you took me out to dinner, when's the last time we went out on a date, when's the last time I've seen you without everyone attached to you?

You aren't even my boyfriend anymore, you're some guy who I see sometimes when he needs help. Like I'm some sort of booty call except we haven't been having any good sex either because I haven't seen you. And when we do see each other, we just fight. Or have really angry sex that I don't even enjoy anymore." It came out a soft whisper, eyes watering and lip quivering. Staring down at the floor you couldn't even look at him. You couldn't do it.

This was for the two of you. You weren't happy. Nothing he did could make up for it after tonight. You can't push that on him, that's just cruel. He swallowed thickly and you heard his voice breaking. Was he crying? Oh no. Please do not cry.

"I feel like you're only seeing my friends as a hindrance. They're your friends too you know. And it's not fair that you can refer to them that way when all they've done is try to be nice to you. We have people we have to help, and I know things are hard right now, but you know I care about you. It's just right now we're both in some difficult situations."

"That is not the issue. I do love our friends, I do. Their great. But why are you all in my house right now. When I have told you so many times not to do this. First it was a little pop in from time to time. Then it was staying over really late. You said the exact same thing to me last night when our one movie night was crashed. Now it's this. I don't think it's your fault. I think you shouldn't be with me right now Stiles. I don't know if you don't have the time, don't want to make the time or can't make the time, I don't know. But I don't want to keep waiting for you to figure it out."

Stepping away from his outstretched arm when he wanted to pull you closer. Flinching he withdrew his hand when he saw you put your hand up to stop him.

"There are boundaries. I have boundaries-

"And I pushed them again." He finished, the sentence you'd been repeatedly screaming at him over and over again since the issues between you two arose.

Then it was over. The first conversation you two had in over a month that didn't end in screaming, tears, fighting, the both of you insisting you'd never let the other go, and instead of you two having a normal talk it was you two breaking up.

And your rug was still ruined.

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[anime-fan-05]

love your writing. youre awesome. you don't have to but if if you could could you make yuyu hakusho characters x reader who's into cute dresses, make up, skin and haircare routines, stuffed animals collections and girly things. would they be accepting of her, find her annoying, join her or what do you think? plz

Yu Yu Hakusho ~With a very feminine reader~

Manga/anime: Yu Yu Hakusho

Warnings: nothing

(Y/N): your name

Thank you very much for the compliment! I personally didn't know which characters you meant exactly, so I created the headcanon with the main 4 and Koenma. If you also want someone else, write to me privately and I'll include them.

U. Yusuke

He thinks you're very adorable, but he'll never join you in hair and skin care

However, he really enjoys putting on your makeup, even if he often messes up your face

When you come back from the hairdresser with your hair cut or from the beautician with your nails done, he's always playing dumb that doesn't notice anything; however, after seeing you were offended, he compliments you ("I noticed it, (Y/N). You look great.")

Whenever he can, he buys you cute stuffed animals or accessories, such as necklaces and bracelets or rubber bands and hair clips

He also gives you nice clothes if he can buy them for you, and, if you wear them, he'll blush deeply and turn his head away so you can't see his huge blush

K. Kazuma

He's probably the person who accepts you the most

Are you wearing a nice outfit? "You're so cute, (Y/N)!" Have you groomed or cut your hair? "You look great, darling!" Did you wear makeup? "You're so gorgeous! You look great without makeup, but you're beautiful even like that!"

He goes to the game room a lot of times to win stuffed animals for you; when he wins nothing, he sulks all day ("Sorry, I won nothing..." "Kazuma, you don't have to give me a stuffed animal a day, don't worry!")

You two often do skin care together, but don't tell Yusuke this or he'll make fun of Kazuma for life

To give you gifts, he often asks Keiko for advice, as he considers his sister to be one of the least feminine women in existence (Shizuru always gets angry when he points this out to her)

Kurama

He finds it very cute you always get dressed up, but he often tells you you're beautiful, even without accessories or luxurious clothes

He always, always notices when you do something different to your hair, nails or face ("Have you done anything to your hair/nails/face? You're very beautiful, (Y/N).")

Probably, you two do hair care together: you're the only person wh's allowed to care for his hair

When you wear cute clothes, he blushes slightly and looks at you affectionately and meanwhile Youko stirs inside him

He sometimes lets you find cute stuffed animals or accessories on your bed, and then he pretends he didn't put them there ("That? No, I didn't give it to you.")

Hiei

He doesn't understand you: he can't understand why you care yourself so much, and he refuses to join you if you ask him this

Despite this, one day, after seeing his sister getting her hair done by Kazuma (Hiei wanted to kill him), he decided he would do the same to you: so, he combs your hair every morning

For a while, he never gave you accessories or stuffed animals, since he thought they were useless; however, everything changed when, one day, he gave you a hair clip he had found during a mission, and he saw your happiness born from that small gesture

"I found it lying around and I thought only a person like you could wear that horror."

This is what he says every time he gives you something to wear, but it's clear he does it because he loves seeing you smile and seeing you with what he steals buys

Koenma

Like Kazuma, he also compliments you when you change your appearance, changing your hairstyle or wearing different and nice clothes every time

You two do skin treatment together: he always claims your hands have the power to make his skin soft ("Only (Y/N) can touch my face! Only she has magic hands!")

He gives you everything you want: have you seen a nice hairpin? You'll find it in your room. Have you expressed your desire for a dress? It'll be yours immediately

He forces his subordinates to have their hair or make-up done whenever you want poor Jorge

When he can (once a day), he gives you a stuffed animal

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

[dayseternal-blog]

Summary: After years of war and bloodshed, the Uchiha and remaining members of the Uzumaki clan joined forces with the Senju. Within the space of one generation, several other clans forfeit to their combined strength, while others futilely resist.

Tasked to bring the weakening yet stubborn Hyuuga clan down swiftly and silently, Naruto successfully infiltrates their territory. And then promptly messes up.

Rebooting this really old wip for @kilandra-mordea's Secret Santa gift for NaruHina Month 2024!

Rated T.

"Trust" - Chapter 1: A Really Important Mission

No, he didn’t underestimate his enemy.

Although circumstances might suggest differently.

Her knees and feet pushing the air out of his lungs, the fight out of his legs.  His arm twisted in her tight grasp, and the other shoulder dislocated.

His own sword pointed, tip steady and sharp, at his very vulnerable throat.

No, he knows too well to underestimate a woman warrior.  Any woman who can succeed on the battlefield has twice the skills of any common man, and he’s learned that the hard way many years before today.

So…

Fierce animosity sparks behind the lightest eyes he’s ever seen.  Pearly.  Far too pretty on a gently shaped, feminine face…

No, he didn’t underestimate her!

He manages a grin, not a grimace.  “Before you finish the job, would you do me the honor of your name?”

Gentle brows furrow ever closer, and for a second, that cold animosity is replaced by surprised confusion.

For one second.

And she’s twisting his arm even harder than before.  “Who’s your master?  Answer me.”

There’s no way he’ll betray Tsunade, even when he’s more than just a little sore about her not mentioning there would be a gorgeous, young--

The sting of her sword pricks into his throat, and his eyes dart back up from the cleavage peeking through the loosening folds of her bedclothes.  It seems like even the very threat of decapitation doesn’t stop the ingrained habits of his teachers…

No, he didn’t underestimate her, right?

“Does it matter?  I’m dead as of now, anyway.  Either you’re slicing my head off--” He makes a schliiick sound for added drama, “--and my blood gets to spurt all over you, or I stab myself in the guts, rearrange my innards, and spill my stomach on your tatami.”  He visibly muses his options, somehow finding humor in his last minutes alive, and he takes it as a personal win when her nose scrunches up in distaste.

“You can’t do that, this is my bedroom,” she argues, as if he was unaware.

“Then I guess we’ll have to take this outside.”

She frowns deeper.  “Not in my garden!”

“Then where?”  And he can’t help a more genuine smile sneaking up on his lips even as new ideas to complete his mission float about his mind.

It’s all halfhearted plans, though.  He was doomed from the start.  Before any of them could have known.

He can’t kill someone like her.

It was that one second of hesitation that sealed his fate.  He could’ve murdered her.  It would’ve been too easy.  Too simple.

And therefore too wrong.

It’s not farfetched to think he was never cut out for this lifestyle.  He never really handled these kinds of missions well, and killing in cold blood was always difficult.  To separate his mind from his body.  To cut off his heart from his actions.  He could always manage.

On old men.  (Who were fathers).

On young men.  (Who were sons and brothers).

He’s known for some time now that the Hyuuga head was the infamous and powerful Hiashi.  A man with strong life force despite his age, supposedly the strongest in the family.  Intel told him he’d find a cruel man in the Main House.

“When I say so, you’re going to get up and walk with me.  One wrong move and I’ll--schliiick--slice your legs off.”  She sounds way too collected for such a serious joke, and it’s...

Just not funny anymore.

Reality is starting to settle in.  The moon lighting up her delicate features instead casts the shadow of death across the room.

At least it seems she’ll grant him an honorable death.

In less than two seconds, she’s got him rolled over, hands locked in one of her arms, and she’s urging him to stand.  “Get up.”

He staggers to his feet, and he doesn’t fail to notice that she makes good on her promises.  His sword is now angled at his legs, ready to hack him off at the knees.

Internally, he’s readying himself for his death, trying to find some kind of empty, zen-like peace.

Outwardly, he’s majorly aware of the softness of her nightwear at his forearms, her chest pressing into his back.

What a way to go.  His one and only opportunity in life to feel a woman, and it’s on his death march.

“Walk,” she murmurs, and he’s suddenly way too aware of the fact that her voice is...soft.

Obediently, as he has no other real options anyway, he steps forward.

Blunt pain lances into his neck, the world shifts in a split-second realization, and all fades to nothing.

---

Chapter 2, which is completely new stuff, will be posted tomorrow!!!

[moki-dokie]

You know what I'm disappointed in Tumblr for not collectively being down tremendously bad for Nosferatu. It's the most Tumblr movie to hit theatres in years and y'all are sleeping on it. Fucking SHAME

It's got EVERYTHING!!!

The most respectful homage to daddy king of horror movies/silent films in general for the film nerds

Some of the most beautiful shots I have seen in literal decades for the limited color use and spooky fantastical light sources for all the camera/techy nerds

Extremely intricate and detailed and drop dead gorgeous costuming that I'm going to assume was like half the budget bc holy SHIT. Best period accuracy for that time and place maybe I've ever seen. Costume hos where you at on this??

PHENOMENAL practical effects and prosthetics.

RATS!!! LIKE FIVE THOUSAND RATS!!!!

Extremely homoerotic bloodsucking like you cannot even imagine. I could have watched sloppy bareback gay porn and it would not have been half as erotic as THAT scene was.

The most pathetic "I love my wife!!!!!" man to grace my eyeballs in such a long time. He's wet. He's traumatized. He's a poor damsel in distress. His only focus is to get back to his batshit wife. After meeting the most terrifying and creepy walking corpse he complains at the guy for taking the locket his wife gave him. He's so wet. So often. Just. Sad sad dripping wet blorboest blorbo. I love him.

Horror that is not just jump scares and gore. Horror that makes you profoundly uncomfortable. Horror that makes you think. Horror that's disgusting. Horror that's psychological. Horror that is an open interpretation for a lot of different things.

It's a fucked up love story. Seriously. The cast referred to it as a love triangle. A toxic one - even better.

That score??? Goddamn that was some majestic scoring.

Ride or die bff's!!!! Sapphic vibes even!!!

The most insane woman ever who could do 0 wrong. Her performances are so good and weird and intense. I wish she could have like burned down a village full of evil people or something she deserved it.

I frankly don't agree with the folks that feel like she got fridged. She took control of the narrative as soon as she realized what would kill him. She made the choice before any of them. She used the vile power that had haunted her so long to destroy it - for good

Willem Dafoe being a lovely unhinged madman, as usual.

Size difference like holy fuck size difference!!!!!! Nosferatu BIIIIIG!!!!

Nasty ugly gross creepy proper monster!!

MONSTER DICK. FULL FRONTAL MONSTER DICK!!!!!!

It has EVERYTHIIIIIIIING GO SEE IT!!!!!

[wholoveseggs]

I know so many people are Hayley and Elijah shippers, and I don't know where you stand, but I loved Elijah and Gia the most. She not only matched him with wit and sarcasm, but I felt like she was able to get him to let loose and be more himself. Just my opinion.

I have a lottttt to say about Elijah's lovers, so I'm going to make a list and rank them, from least favorite to my number one favorite. (I left out Tatia because we don't know anything about her...)

{6} Antoinette

At first, I liked her. She brought something refreshing to Elijah's brainless lobotomized state. She’s classy, shares his refined tastes, and has this calm, collected demeanor that seems like a perfect match for him. Plus, she’s absolutely gorgeous. But then, her personal philosophy on vampires started showing, and it was all downhill. The whole "purity of the night" nonsense, the way she looks down on humans as nothing but food (fuck that). She claimed she wasn’t like her Nazi vampire family, but her actions proved otherwise. She still practiced their old prejudices and wrapped them in a veneer of elegance to make them seem acceptable. Worst of all, she manipulated Elijah. SHE KNEW WHO HE WAS THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME DIDN'T TELL HIM.

AND!!! Used it all to her advantage. She didn’t love him for who he was; she loved the blank slate he became. So yeah, fuck her, her toxic ideology, and everything she represents.

{5} Celeste

She’s fascinating and so much fun to watch. From the few crumbs we get of their relationship, it’s clear Elijah loved her deeply. Her death broke him, and you can feel the weight of that grief centuries later. But her revenge? Oh, her revenge was everything. The centuries-long scheme, the meticulous planning, the twisted way she channeled her love into hate. It’s such a good trope, and they executed it perfectly. Rewatching the first season, knowing that Sabine was Celeste all along makes it even better. The layers of their history, their unspoken connection, the tensionnnn… it’s all so good. And then there’s the ending. When he kills her, it’s devastating, satisfying, and somehow hot? (I'm unwell)

{4} Katherine Pierce

I enjoy their backstory so much. The flashbacks of Elijah and Katherine in TVD are adorable. Those scenes are filled with charm and chemistry, and you can tell Elijah truly saw her as more than just another doppelganger. He admired her fire, her resilience, and her ability to survive even in the face of unimaginable odds. There’s this undeniable magnetism between them, and their early relationship feels so genuine and heartfelt.

But unfortunately, their present-day relationship just doesn’t hold up. Maybe if we’d gotten more of it, I’d feel differently, but I can’t see them working long-term. The baggage between them is just too heavy. Elijah is eternally tied to Klaus, and Katherine has spent centuries being deeply traumatized by him. The pain and resentment she harbors toward Klaus make it impossible for her to fully trust Elijah, and Elijah being the honorable, ever-loyal brother, can never truly separate himself from Klaus. It’s a recipe for disaster.

Beyond that, Katherine’s paranoia, lies, and manipulative tendencies create even more barriers. Elijah values honesty and loyalty above all else, and while Katherine is capable of great love, her survival instincts will always come first. It’s not that she doesn’t love Elijah (I think she does, in her own way) but she’s too guarded and self-serving to let that love flourish. And Elijah, in turn, can never fully let go of his doubts about her.

It’s sad because there’s so much potential there, but the emotional wounds on both sides run too deep. Still, the sexual tension is insane, we’re talking 500 years of pent-up frustration here. Elijah would go until Katherine tapped out. Except, let’s be real…Katherine never taps out. They would’ve burned the world down in the best way, but passion can’t fix their underlying issues.

Their relationship is tragic because it’s built on what could have been.. rather than what actually is. But there is too much pain, too much mistrust, and too many unhealed wounds for them to truly work.

{3} Aya Al-Rashid

THE MISSED OPPORTUNITY OF THIS RELATIONSHIP WILL HAUNT ME FOREVER.

First of all, I love her. She’s so cool, so badass, so unapologetically ambitious, and so fucking stupidly gorgeous. Every second she’s on screen, she commands attention. The few clues we get about her and Elijah’s past relationship are SO interesting. I think their attraction to each other (beyond the obvious chemistry) stems from their shared ideologies. Aya is the only woman on this list to truly match his intelligence and his vision.

They didn’t just connect physically or emotionally; they connected intellectually. I think they fell for each other over this shared, almost idealistic belief that they could shape the world into something better. Sure, it was a fool’s errand (they were playing gods in a world that thrives on chaos) but their belief in that dream was admirable. And Aya adored him for it. She didn’t just love Elijah; she believed in him, in their shared vision, in what they could accomplish together.

And then he betrayed her. Elijah turned his back on everything they believed in, and it destroyed their relationship. Everything goes to shit after that and their love twists into bitterness and resentment. They end up on opposite sides, trying to kill each other, and it’s just such a tragic mess. There’s this constant tension between them that feels like it’s one step away from either a declaration of love or a blade to the throat. It’s raw, it’s dramatic, it’s the epitome of ‘what could have been.’

I also think her unwavering ambition and refusal to back down made her one of the most compelling women in Elijah’s life. She wasn’t content to follow his lead or play a supportive role. She was his equal, his partner… and that’s exactly why his betrayal cut so deeply for her, and why his regret feels so palpable. Their story could’ve been a fascinating exploration of love, betrayal, and the clash between idealism and reality, but we got just enough to see how incredible they could’ve been.

The missed opportunity of Aya and Elijah will forever make me scream into the void.

Oh Giaaaaa, sweet, beautiful, perfect Gia!!!!!! My only complaint about her relationship with Elijah is that it was cut way too short. It was the beginning of a great romance. She's the only one of his romantic interests to not want anything from him… not his power, not his influence, not even his protection. She loved him for exactly who he is. That’s so rare in Elijah’s life, where everyone else seems to need him to be something for them.

{2} Gia

I adore her so much. She was such a good, pure person, but not in an annoying way, she had an edge to her that made her feel real. I really enjoyed their mutual love of music and how they communicated through it. Those moments between them felt intimate and natural, like something Elijah truly needed to pull him out of the chaos of his life. It’s also worth noting that she didn’t tiptoe around him or treat him like he was above her. She teased him, challenged him, and didn’t let his whole ‘stoic nobleman act’ intimidate her. She made him feel human, something I think he desperately craved but rarely allowed himself to experience.

She was the opposite of him in so many ways, and yet she gave him what he needed most: an escape from all the darkness. I loved how he cared for her too. You could tell she brought out a softer, freer side of him, even if it was brief. I was rooting so hard for them. And her death? So shocking and so fucked up. It was a senseless, cruel loss that still makes me mad. Elijah should have stayed mad at Klaus for longer over it. Honestly, that deserved a real, lasting rift between them. What Klaus did wasn’t just unforgivable….it was a reminder that, no matter how much Elijah sacrifices for his family, Klaus will always rip away the things that bring him happiness.

(Note: I've never been able to decide between Gia or Hayley, so I'm going to go with the woman Elijah would choose.... And we allllll know who that is...)

{1} Hayley

I've seen a few posts saying they have nothing in common, but I completely disagree. They're both fiercely loyal and protective of their family, they're both very sarcastic, and they're both incredibly selfless. (Sometimes to a fault). They share this inner strength, this unshakable moral core that makes them perfect equals. Hayley isn’t intimidated by Elijah’s formality or his calculated nature, and Elijah respects Hayley’s independence and fiery personality. They challenge each other in the best ways.

And let’s talk about how she brings out the best in him. Hayley amplifies all his most admirable traits (his self-control, his honor, his loyalty) but also gives him something he’s never truly had: someone to fight for him. And Elijah gives her what she’s always needed: unwavering protection and support… the kind she never received growing up as a orphan. He respects her agency and defends her fiercely, often putting her safety and happiness above everything else. The way he looks at her… like she’s his entire world… is just *chef’s kiss*.

Their love was so beautiful, pure, and genuine. It wasn’t riddled with manipulation, lies, or selfishness. The only thing that kept them apart was outside interference (*cough* Mr. Niklaus Mikaelson *cough*), not interpersonal conflict. That’s rare in Elijah’s love life, where external drama and loyalty to his family usually ruin everything. But Hayley managed to become both for him. His heart and his family. She’s the only person in his one thousand years who did that, and it’s why I believe he loved her the most.

Her death (and his role in it) was absolutely devastating. The guilt and heartbreak shattered him. She wasn’t just someone he loved; she was his hope, his redemption, and losing her left him broken in a way he never recovered from. Their love story is one of the most tragic yet beautiful parts of the show.

[joelslegalwhre]

My Riduur

word count // 1.6k

pairing // Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count // 1.6k

summary // Mando didn't like it at all that some boy thought he could get close to his wife. He couldn't show with actions that you were his, the helmet prevented that, but he had his own way to show it.

warnings // jealous Din (let‘s still call him Din okay, thanks), pda, established relationship, lovesick puppy energy, protective!din, allusions to smut, Din and reader speaking Mando’a, me having absolutely no clue about Mando‘a grammar, taking the helmet off if you’re married is okay here, okay? Thanks (did I miss something?)

a/n // I put translation for the Mando‘a words at the end, so you don‘t get confused but I also have the link to the dictionary right here

Took me long enough to write this 😮‍💨 Thank god my exam is over (and I stressed for nothing, it was actually really easy), so here you go with my first ever din fic, I hope you like it x

Masterlist// Mando‘a dictionary I used // my kofi 🩷

It felt strange to be sitting here, in a bar on Mos Eisley, surrounded by all kinds of people, droids, and even a few bounty hunters.

It wasn't the feeling of sitting in a cantina that was weird. No, it was more the feeling of not having to accept a job. You were not here to look for one. In the last months you had almost had no break, and now you could finally lean back a little. The thought, of picking out a nice place with Mando for the three of you for the next few days, pleased you.

But before you did that, you just had to have the ship repaired a bit, after it had taken quite some damage.

Mando was still at Peli Motto's place, busy showing her the ship and checking the price for the repair. You had been looking around the bar ever since he left, hoping he'd be back soon. The jobs of the last weeks had been unique, the wages you had collected for them were easily enough to sit back and relax for a few days, even after getting the razor crest repaired.

You were sitting at a free spot at the bar of the cantina and watched the people and other beings talking to each other. Some argued, some laughed with each other.

You wondered how long it would take for Mando to-

"Hey there, gorgeous." someone sat down next to you, interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at the stranger for a moment, eyeing him. He had to be your age, a few strands of his dark hair fell into his face, and his eyes were not only gleaming with a deep blue, but with an extreme amount of confidence. "I didn't expect to see an angel today." he smirked in a way that almost made you laugh. He didn't lack any confidence, that was for sure.

You drew your brows together, and tilted your head slightly as you looked at him.

"Say, does that work on any woman?"

At his next sentence, you were sure he definitely had a drink too much or just a little too much self-confidence to flirt so shamelessly.

"You're not any woman." he winked.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded with an amused smile. "Oh, is that so?" you chuckled lightly.

"You're here with someone?" he asked, leaning closer. You immediately brought some more space between the two of you again, "I am, actually."

"Well, then where are they?" he asked with a grin that told you he didn't believe you. "Right here." you could hear Mando's deep, modulated voice. Your heart made a little jump when you turned your head and saw him walking straight towards you.

If looks could kill, this wannabe bounty hunter would be six feet underground by now. Mando's jaw had clenched when he saw the stranger talk to you. His jealousy stewing at the mere thought of another man looking at you this way. He’d been ready to stomp up to him and place a good, hard punch right at this fool's flirtatious face.

"Me'bana?" Mando asked, looking at you. His hand naturally found its place on your waist.

"Nothing," you leaned a little closer to him, "Kaysh mirsh solus."

Mando's light, breathy laugh made you almost turn into a puddle. 'He's an idiot.' you'd told him in Mando's native tongue, so the stranger in front of you wouldn't understand.

You had learned it when you started to accompany Mando. He was confused at first, to say at least, as to why you'd wanted to actually learn the language. But you wanted to get to know Mando, that included his native tongue. And besides, it was fun, sitting in the razor crest next to him, Grogu on your lap, learning to speak and read the extraordinary language of your Mandalorian.

"Hey, just so you know," said one started again, "Unalike that tin can there, I can show my face whenever, my lips too." he smirked. His obvious confusion about the two of you speaking in a language he'd never heard but knew must've been Mando'a.

You politely declined his request, slowly getting annoyed. "Thank you very much, but I actually really like the tin can right here."

Mando wanted to kiss you so bad, show you off as his, but he couldn't. That's just how it was, he couldn't take off his helmet. He was proud of his religion, it was part of him. You'd probably wouldn't even let him take it off, even if he tried. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so deeply. You respected his religion, tried to understand and learn about it.

And he could always take it off when the two of you were back in the privacy of the razor crest. He loved the curious look on your face every time he did, as if it was the first time you've seen his face.

But the truth was, that you were enamored with his features, the patchy beard paired with the mustache, his brown eyes and the brown curls… You could just never get enough of him.

Even before you two were married, you always loved to play with the ends of his fluffy hair, whenever it was getting longer once again. It was never much, but enough.

He had other ways to make sure everyone, especially the fool in front of you, knew you belonged to him.

"We need to look for our child." he was well aware that people believed he meant a human child when he referred to Grogu as "child" or "kid".

The look on the boy's face made a smug smile appear on Din's face, carefully hidden by the beskar helmet. He was so satisfied with himself, you could practically feel it spill over, and you didn't even need to see his face for it. You just chuckled quietly.

"Next time," Mando said, "watch who you talk to. My wife is off limits, understand?" his voice cold, almost threatening.

The eyes of the stranger widened, hearing the title.

You took Mando's gloved hand from where it was still firmly placed on your waist, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"C'mon, let's go," you smiled up at your riduur. You turned back around to address the guy, trying to sound nice, "It was nice meeting you."

With that, you left him sitting there, Mando‘s grip on your hand tightening in a protective manner, as you left the cantina.

When you were back at the ship, you could see Grogu fast asleep in his pod, "He's the most adorable thing I've ever seen." you say to Mando, looking at the little being with a look of pure love. Mando‘s heart warmed at the sight of you and Grogu. His little odd family.

"Even more than you getting all jealous of that guy back in the cantina." you grinned at him teasingly.

Mando stepped closer to you, his hands on your hips once again. You slung your arms around his neck.

"I wasn‘t-" but he interrupted himself, he was jealous, so much so that he would've loved to take his blaster out of the holster, even if it was just for show. "I was protecting my aliit." Family. You could barely get your fastening heartbeat under control, no matter how many times he'd say it. "I'm all yours, Din."

"Good." he said, and lowered his head. You could feel the cold beskar of his helmet touch your forehead. A Mandalorian kiss. You loved when he showed you his love that way. You closed your eyes, just soaking up the moment. You couldn‘t see it, but Mando had also closed his eyes, his hands still on your waist, he tried to memorize every little detail about this, about you.

After some time, spent taking the other in, after savoring the intimacy, you could hear a content sigh voice through his modulator.

"I'll look after you, always." His hand wandered to your cheek and cupped it gently. “And trust me,” he huffed, "I won't let anyone flirt with my wife like that, cyar'ika." 

You grinned up at him. You couldn't wait to be all alone with him, leaving Grogu in the cockpit to sleep, and kiss him. Oh, how badly you just wanted to give his lips a little peck. You settled for wrapping your arms tightly around his armored middle, pressing yourself against his chest. 

Mando's arms around your shoulders, he leaned his helmet against your hair. Even if all you could feel was his armor, it was still him. Your Mandalorian. Your husband. "I love you, mesh'la." the modulator had barely picked it up. He'd whispered it into your hair, like he couldn't believe that you were his. That he had the privilege to be the one to hold you… to love you. And to be loved by you. 

"You know," you started smiling at him innocently, „since the baby's asleep, I thought you could show me how much. I mean, just so I know-"

"Haav." he interrupted you, his voice low, "Now." This was no plead, no, a demand. You chuckled and started walking to the makeshift bed you shared with him.

Behind you, you could hear him taking off his helmet, and you could barely hold in your excitement to finally see his face again. You had really missed it, although you've just seen him this morning before getting up. His armor followed next, a second later you could feel his arms wrap themselves around you. "Too many clothes." he whispered into your ear, his voice clear without the modulator. It gave you goosebumps all over your body, "Take them off then.".

Mando‘a translations:

ner = my, mine

riduur = partner, spouse, husband, wife

Me‘bana? = What‘s happening? What happened?

Kaysh mirsh solus = He‘s an idiot (lit. His brain cell is lonely)

cyar‘ika = darling, sweetheart

mesh‘la = beautiful

aliit = clan name, identity, family

haav = bed

🩶taglist: @alexxavicry @kittenlittle24 @hereforfics124 @Snow30285 @cl16version

[ikeromantic]

Wishlist

Ikemen Advent prompt featuring Shingen! approx. 400 words.

“I can - Shingen, really, I -” The chatelaine was silenced by a mouthful of sweet plum jelly.

Shingen smiled. “Isn’t it delicious, my angel? Would you like another bite?”

“Disgusting,” Yukimura growled.

Yoshimoto shrugged. “I think it’s quite sweet. Look how in love they are!”

“It’s spoiling my sake,” grumbled Kenshin.

Kanetsugu’s lips turned down at the corners. “My lord’s meal is disturbed. Continue and I will be forced to take action.”

The chatelaine swallowed and held up a hand to forestall another bite. “When I said I wished you would pamper me for a day, I didn’t mean feeding me. I can feed myself.” Her cheeks were hot, the color infused with red. 

Shingen’s smile widened. “Is there something else I can do for you? Perhaps a footrub or -”

“Not at the table,” Yukimura groaned. 

Sasuke nodded. “I must concur. Your show of affection is commendable, but a footrub is best done away from the dining hall.”

“Yes!” The chatelaine gestured. “So why don’t we just -”

“Leave. Yes, what a wonderful wish, my goddess. I will carry you from here like a delicate autumn leaf on winter’s chill wind, bearing you into our own personal spring.” Shingen scooped her into his arms and stood.

Yukimura rolled his eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. 

Her eyes went wide and she clung to his broad shoulders to steady herself. “W-where are you taking me now?”

“To our room.” Shingen’s eyes held a heated promise. 

“But we’ve barely started dinner and -” She looked around the room at the collection of knowing grins. “We . . . I . . .”

He lightly nipped her earlobe, teasing. “Is there some other wish you want to add to your list?”

The chatelaine’s eyes half closed as she let out a pleased sigh. “N-no. I - I don’t remember making a list.”

“I made it for you. All the little things you’ve said this year that you wished for.” He pulled out a thin slip of paper covered in neat, tight lines. “Let’s see. A day of being pampered. Someone to carry all your shopping bags. Hm.” Shingen paused. “I suppose you didn’t say you wished for a footrub. You said you would kill for one. I think that counts.”

“You - you wrote all that down?!”

Shingen kissed the crook of her neck. “Of course. I treasure every word that spills from the lips of my gorgeous goddess.”

Kanetsugu opened the door. “You were leaving.”

Yoshimoto hid a grin behind his fan while Yukimura made a shooing motion. 

“Let’s go. You can show me the rest of this list you made,” the chatelaine murmured.

“As my angel of love wills.”

@candied-boys @queengiuliettafirstlady